


haunted

by toxicpop



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gen, brought to you by taking nyquil during the daytime and fighting it, halloween is 365 days a year if you've got the spirit, literally the most ridiculous thing you'll read today
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:57:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicpop/pseuds/toxicpop
Summary: the last thing the roster needs is a ghost





	1. séance

**Author's Note:**

> what happens when you get so sick you think you're gonna die and fight the meds that make you sleepy? this shit right here
> 
> (revision: I was pretty fucked up when I wrote the first draft of this and apparently sick me wants to consider ALL the possibilities of haunting the WWE roster when I die. so this is shameless self insert. fight me about it, it's gonna be funny)

Baron Corbin was no stranger to macabre. Hell, his entire house was a celebration of death. But it was admittedly strange and unusual for Xander to stare at corners for extended periods of time. Baron had seen him in a play bow more than once, tail wagging and boofing gently at the wall. Things had also started to go missing on occasion, reappearing in odd places, or moved around in unexplainable ways. Keys vanished from the hook only to be found stuffed into his pillowcase. Skulls on his bookshelf were rearranged. He woke one morning almost certain he had felt cool fingers in his hair, and after he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled into the living room, he found X on his back receiving what appeared to be the mother of all belly rubs, albeit invisible.

  
For all his love of darkness and the occult, Baron Corbin was not exactly thrilled at the prospect of a ghost in his goddamn house. So really, he thought as he set up black candles in a circle on the table and lit them, it was kinda necessary to break out the Ouija board and find out exactly what he was dealing with. He turned out the lights and settled into the chair.

  
"Is there anyone here right now?" he asked, hands resting gently on the planchette. The candle flames flickered slightly as it slid effortlessly to YES. "What's your name?"

  
ＣＡＬＬ　ＭＥ　ＴＯＸ, the board spelled.

  
"Tox? Seriously?" The laugh spilled out of him before he could control it. “What kind of a name is that?” The planchette shuddered slightly beneath his fingers and pain lanced through his scalp as an unseen force yanked his hair with prejudice. "Ow! What was that for?"

  
ＤＯＮＴ　ＢＥ　ＡＮ　ＡＳＳＨＯＬＥ　ＢＡＲＯＮ

  
"How do you know my name?” The planchette twitched and he hurriedly added, “Wait, don’t answer that. Why are you here?"

  
ＵＮＦＩＮＩＳＨＥＤ　ＢＵＳＩＮＥＳＳ

  
“What kind of business?”

  
ＴＨＥ　ＳＰＯＯＫＹ　ＫＩＮＤ

  
"Are you being difficult on purpose?"

  
ＭＡＹＢＥ

  
Baron could feel a headache coming on. "Why. Are you haunting. My house. Specifically."

  
ＹＯＵ　ＬＩＫＥ　ＤＥＡＤ　ＴＨＩＮＧＳ

  
"So you think that means I want a ghost?"

  
ＦＩＴＳ　ＴＨＥ　ＶＩＢＥ

  
He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but you’re avoiding the question.”

  
ＤＯ　ＹＯＵ　ＷＡＮＴ　ＭＥ　ＴＯ　ＬＥＡＶＥ

  
A strong sensation of sad washed over him and he felt his irritation fade somewhat. "Look, I'm not saying you have to leave. Just don't hide my stuff anymore, okay?”

  
ＳＯＲＲＹ　ＪＵＳＴ　ＰＲＡＣＴＩＣＩＮＧ

  
"Practicing? What are you trying to do?" He felt fingers in his hair again, gently untangling and twisting until a smooth braid dropped onto his shoulder.

  
ＢＥ　ＨＥＡＲＤ　ＡＮＤ　ＳＥＥＮ　ＴＯＯ

  
"Is it hard to be heard and seen?" The planchette shot to hover over YES again. "Okay, okay. Just be cool and you can stay here for a while, all right?"

  
ＴＨＡＮＫ　ＹＯＵ spelled itself quickly as the candle flames flared brightly for a moment.

  
"I'm gonna close the board now. Be nice to my dog. Goodbye." The pointer glided to GOODBYE and fell still. As Baron replaced the pieces in the box, he could have sworn he heard someone softly saying "thanks."

 


	2. whiskey

Over time Baron found he didn’t mind having a ghost. He had slowly become accustomed to their stronger presence around the house, though the first time they’d left a message written in the steam on his mirror was startling to say the least. They often played with his hair, with permission of course. He’d never admit it, but he found it soothing. His housemate seemed to become more cooperative as well.

  
“Tox!” he called one morning. “Have you seen my keys?” A weight dropped into his pocket with a muted jingle and a cool touch smoothed an unruly lock of hair back under his beanie.

  
“Awesome, thanks.” Baron gathered up his bags. “X is already at the sitter's house, I'm rolling out. Tour’s about ten days. Try not to wreck the place?” As his hand touched the doorknob he felt a tug at the hem of his shirt and the impression of _lonely, don’t go_.

  
“I have to go to work, I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon.” He waved at the spot he suspected his ghost was and walked out the door, a weird static prickling the hair on the back of his neck.

  
Later that night, after a flight and a long drive to his hotel, Baron still couldn't shake the creepy feeling that followed him. Even a hot shower couldn’t wash it away. He turned off the water and dried his face before his eyes were drawn to the fogged mirror.

  
“You’ve gotta be fucking shitting me,” he said aloud. Fresh, crystal clear letters in the steam read _TOX WAS HERE_. He started to roll his eyes before the message hit him. “Wait, what do you mean ‘ _was_?’”

* * *

  
Down the hall in his own room, Corey Graves stared in disbelief. The whiskey in his glass had apparently disappeared in the time it took to put the lid back on the Jack Daniels. He scrubbed at his eyes and checked the bottle. It was a fresh one, the paper bag from the liquor store still stuffed into the trash, and there was clearly the equivalent of a couple fingers missing.

  
“What the fuck,” he said softly. He unscrewed the cap and poured his glass again. The whiskey settled, then began to vanish as if it could somehow drain through the bottom of the glass. Corey checked the table for spilled liquor and found none.

“What the fuck,” he said again, and reached for his phone.

* * *

  
“This is going to sound completely crazy,” Corey said once his best friend arrived. “Just hear me out.”

  
“Let me guess, some weird spooky shit is happening and you can’t figure out why?” Baron crossed his arms.

  
“Yeah, exactly- wait, how did you know?”

  
“I wound up with a house ghost and I’m pretty sure they followed me.”

  
“No shit?”

  
“Yeah,” Baron sighed. “Hand me the fuckin’ notepad.” It took a bit, but Baron sketched out a passable spirit board and snagged the whiskey cap to serve as a planchette. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to work. The two men put a finger apiece on the cap before Baron spoke again.

  
“Tox? You in here?” The lamp flickered and a soft giggle came from Corey's left as the cap slid to YES.

  
“What the fuck was that?” Corey hissed.

  
“Shush. Tox, did you drink Corey's whiskey?”

  
ＨＥＬＬ　ＹＥＡ　Ｉ　ＤＩＤ, the board spelled. Baron pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

  
“You can’t just bust up in someone’s hotel room unannounced and drink their liquor without asking.”

  
ＴＨＩＮＫ　Ｉ＇Ｍ　ＤＲＵＮＫ

  
“Great. Your haunted ass brought a ghost to the hotel and now that ghost is getting lit the fuck up.”

  
“Shut up, Graves,” Baron said.

ＫＩＬＬＪＯＹ, the board spelled.

“Tox, you can’t do shit like this if you’re tagging along while I’m on the road.”

  
“Yeah,” Corey piped up. “At least if you’re gonna freak people out, do it to someone like Saxton. He deserves it.”

  
“Corey, no-“ The planchette stayed still for a moment before shooting to GOODBYE and Corey’s hair ruffled as if from a breeze. Baron called the ghost’s name a few more times, but there was no further response from the board.

  
“Did you just encourage a drunk ghost to harass one of our coworkers?”

  
“Come on, Corbin. That shit's hilarious and you know it.”

  
“Whatever happens, it’s on you.” A yell from down the hall caught both men’s attention and Baron threw up his hands.

  
“Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to take a break from this year's Chrismuts project so I ended up writing this. it's so fun to write that I honestly don't care that it's so dumb. plus I like the short little snippets for shenanigans like this


End file.
